


queen of roses

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse of Authority, F/F, Fingerfucking, Object Insertion, Public Humiliation, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 11:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "You enter my palace grounds uninvited and make yourself at home. And you wonder what I want from you?"





	queen of roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allyoops](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoops/gifts).



> Your letter was so beautiful and inspiring, I just had to write one of your prompts! I'm sorry I didn't get this treat in by the deadline but I hope you enjoy it even a little :)

Eveline shivers as the lady knight pushes her into the cold silver room. The palace here is extraordinarily chilly, and she clutches the robe tighter around her body when she stumbles into what must be the Queen’s lounge. At her back, the lady knight who had arrested her pushes on her shoulders until she drops into a forced kneel.

_I shouldn’t have to kneel to a queen who’s not mine_.

But she has little space for disgruntled thoughts as she peers up through her lashes to try to get a good glimpse of the queen she’s been brought before. Queen Isolde of the Blackbell Isles is just rising from her chaise, walking purposefully across the room to where Eveline and the lady knight are. Behind her, her court of ladies are scattered on various chairs and sofas on the lounge, some looking up from their notebooks and cups of tea in mild interest, others in outright disdain.

“Get up,” says Queen Isolde when she’s standing right in front of her. Her voice is warm and deep, not entirely unkind.

Eveline tries to push herself up to her feet without letting go of her hold on her robe, but the lady knight has to grab her arm and haul her up before she manages it.

“And what have you brought me today, Olinda?” The Queen asks the lady knight.

Olinda sketches her a bow. “A trespasser, Your Majesty. Found her and three friends prancing around in our palace glade. Her friends ran away, but I managed to catch her.”

Eveline seethes. _Of course they would abandon me to the Queen and run away right when I need them._

Queen Isolde shifts her gaze to Eveline, and all her thoughts scatter at the beauty of the Queen. They had heard tales, of course, over on the Rose Isles of the Queen who had conquered sixteen other isles by marching west from Blackbell. She had led her army herself, had slain hundreds, maybe thousands of enemy warriors by her own two hands. The Rose Isles had escaped only by virtue of lying east and not having any useful minerals or exports for her to absorb into her kingdom—their queen, a frail, cowardly thing, had worked out a moderately useful compromise which allowed them to remain independent.

Now, Queen Isolde stands tall and proud in front of her, an amused glint to her blue eyes, and Eveline understands why her own queen had flailed in the face of her power. Isolde is every inch a warrior queen, wearing a leather dress inlaid with diamonds sharpened into knife-points, her long, dark hair tied up in a thick braid upon which her silver crown rests. Her face is sharp, her cheekbones high, and her eyes ringed with kohl as she leans over and takes Eveline’s chin in her hands, so she can’t look away even if she wanted to. Her touch is like fire to her freezing skin.

“And what is your name, trespasser?” Queen Isolde asks in a soft, low voice.

_I must not let her see my fear._

Eveline raises her head as high as she can manage and says, “Eveline of the Rose Isles. I am the daughter and sister of our Rose Knights.”

A smile lilts Isolde’s face as she lets go of her chin. “And just as brave besides, I can tell. For what reason were you sneaking into my castle grounds?”

Eveline hesitates, tightening her grip on her robe.

Next to her, the knight Olinda lets out a scoff. “I can tell you that, Your Majesty. She and her friends thought it would be fun to go swimming in the nude in our lake. Their clothes are still out there on the grounds. I’ll have the servants sent to clean those up.”

“Ah,” Isolde says, her smile deepening. “I can see you must have been having a good time. Remove the robe.”

Eveline stutters. “What?”

It hadn’t been a question, so Isolde only inclines her head, and then Olinda grasps her robe from the back of her neck and tugs harshly at her queen’s silent command.

Eveline gasps, her grip unable to withstand Olinda’s strength, and the robe goes flying off her. A rush of cold air hits her, just as the ladies of the court start tittering at the sight, and Eveline scrambles to attempt to cover herself as she stands completely naked before the Queen.

Her face is flushed, she knows, as she slides one arm quickly over her breasts and squirms her legs together, slipping her other hand down to cover her private regions. She’s only ever been naked in front of her sisters, or her best friends before—never so vulnerable in front of a stranger, and certainly not the Warrior Queen of the Isles.

Queen Isolde’s gaze shifts from curious to amused as she watches Eveline’s mortification growing, raking her naked body up and down with her eyes. Her ladies are still giggling behind her—Eveline hears one whisper something about her “tiny tits” mockingly to her companion, and her flush deepens in embarrassment and anger.

_Is this how they treat all their trespassers? Humiliation in front of the court?_

If that was the Queen’s intention, she has to admit that it’s working. She’s never wished to be home so badly, or wished for her friends’ company so she might have someone to share the humiliation with. She tries to back up from the Queen, but Olinda is standing like a wall just behind her, so she’s stuck.

_I wish I’d never suggested swimming in the castle grounds—it’s all Annavire’s fault for telling us the lake here had the warmest water in all the Isles—_

“Eveline of the Rose Isles,” murmurs Queen Isolde thoughtfully. “You must be a very daring soul, to trespass in my home. I must take some time to think of a suitable punishment.”

There’s a glint in her eyes, still locked on Eveline, that suggests she already has several punishment ideas running through her mind. Eveline shivers at the thought of what this Warrior Queen might do to her.

_No, I cannot let her walk all over. I may have broken the law, but I am not one of her people, to be mocked and humiliated like this._

“My brother is the bravest knight in the Rose Isles,” Eveline proclaims, lifting her chin. She wishes she could relax her arms, so her position isn’t quite so uncomfortable and embarrassing, but she doesn’t want to give the ladies of the court a view of her _tiny tits_ again. “He will come for me immediately, and you may ask any payment you wish of him.”

To everyone’s surprise, Queen Isolde lets out a laugh, and leans closer, blue eyes gleaming. Eveline catches her breath and holds it, but all the Queen does is trail a hand down her arm, from shoulder to wrist, and then gently push it aside. So caught up in the Queen’s gaze, Eveline drops her arm without meaning to.

The tittering starts up again, but this time, she barely even notices it. Queen Isolde touches one of Eveline’s bare breasts so gently, her fingers could be feathers, and Eveline lets out a small squeak of surprise at the sensation. Isolde circles her nipple with one finger, a teasing, tantalizing touch, and then smiles.

“It is not your brother I wish to have payment from, my dear,” says Queen Isolde. She pulls her hand back, but Eveline is still frozen there, unable to make herself move or cover her breasts up again. “Olinda, please take her to the guest rooms. Tell the girls to have her bathed and oiled. I want her to be ready for the council’s dinner tonight.”

Her nipples are still hard from the Queen’s touch when Olinda nods, takes her by the arm, and leads her out of the room.

The girls are three maids—Olinda introduces them as Amelina, Brielle, and Folla when she pushes Eveline into the large bathing room—who look at her in mingled expressions of curiosity, disdain, and amusement. Eveline wants to ask for her robe back, but Olinda leaves the room after a few whispered words to Amelina, and the opportunity is lost.

“So you’re the trespasser.” Brielle, blonde-haired and button-nosed, is the most disdainful of the three. She looks Eveline up and down and then rolls her eyes. “How are we ever going to get you dressed for the council’s dinner if you won’t stop squirming around like a fish on land? Move your arms and stand up straight.”

“What—what is the council’s dinner?” Eveline asks, rather than obeying—she might be naked and at their mercy, but she’s not about to expose herself unnecessarily. _Maybe if I’m lucky I can just get in the bath without them seeing anything._

“It’s just a dinner for the queen and her court of ladies,” Folla explains. She’s shorter and stockier than the other two, with a mass of brown curls and a kind look to her face. “They have it once a week. It looks like she wants you to be her guest tonight.”

_Her guest… that doesn’t sound too bad. But is that how the Queen sees it?_

“If you expect to be treated like a princess, think again,” Amelina warns, moving closer with a bottle of what looks like lotion or salve in her hands. She looks like the oldest of the three, her dark hair braided over her shoulder and a scoff in her voice when she speaks. “You broke into the castle grounds. The Queen surely intends to take a vote on what your punishment should be with all her ladies present.”

Before Eveline can process this, Brielle comes up behind her and forcibly pulls her arms to the sides, exposing her front to Amelina.

“Stop that,” Brielle sighs when Eveline squeals and tries to wriggle away. “We need to get you clean and looking pretty for the dinner in just a few hours. We can’t do anything if you keep trying to be _modest_. You don’t have anything we haven’t already seen, you know.”

“Besides, it’s not like you cared much for modesty when you stripped naked in our castle lake,” Amelina says with a smirk.

Eveline feels her cheeks heat up. “That was—my friend’s idea,” she protests feebly.

“Either way, you should have no problem with this,” Amelina says, and then before Eveline can find a retort, she dips her hands in the bottle and starts slathering the blue lotion over Eveline’s body.

“It’s going to be cold,” Folla warns, a little apologetic when Eveline yelps at the sensation.

“Everything in your gods-damned castle is cold,” Eveline snaps, unable to help herself from writhing under Amelina’s lotion.

“Only to you weak little birds from the Rose Isles,” says Brielle with a derisive sniff. She’s still holding Eveline’s arms to keep her upright and steady as Amelina mercilessly rubs the lotion all across her body, not bothering to be gentle. “Folla, get the water ready.”

The process of being bathed, while physically painless, is almost more humiliating than being forced to stand naked in front of the queen and her ladies. Once she’s lathered up, the maids get her into one of the bathing pools, and Folla gets in with her to soap and rinse her. Eveline tries to get her to let her do it, but Folla refuses under Amelina’s orders.

“It’s our job,” she explains. “We know what the Queen expects when she orders a girl bathed and oiled. Open your legs a little.”

Eveline blushes as Folla pushes her legs apart to cleanse her pussy, squirming the whole way through.

“Have you never been touched here before?” Folla asks in surprise.

“No,” says Eveline defensively. “Where I’m from, maidens are only ever naked in front of other maidens, and I’m not yet married.”

When Folla finishes rinsing her off, she’s taken to lie down on a table under the critical scrutiny of Amelina and Brielle. They whisper to each other as she tries not to shift around—the table is cushioned so it’s not uncomfortable, but being forced to lie there naked as they discuss what to do with her exposed body is more mortifying than anything.

_Perhaps this is the Queen’s punishment—forcing me to have to deal with these girls when I’m already stripped naked and exposed. Does she do this to all her prisoners?_

“We’re going to have to do something about this,” Brielle announces, poking a thumb at the tangle of dark curls at the apex of Eveline’s thighs. The touch is so close to her tender region that Eveline lets out a squeal.

“Do girls over on the Rose Isle not have to maintain their feminine hygiene?” Amelina questions, frowning. “We all have ours shaved and cleaned since the time we reach maidenhood.”

“Oh,” Folla pipes up, when Eveline doesn’t say anything out of spite, “I heard that their tradition is to have brides cleaned the night before their wedding. It’s something only married women have to do, I think.”

“Strange,” mutters Amelina. “Well, you’re on the Blackbell Isles now, so we’ll just have to shave you ourselves. My apologies to your future husband.”

“H—hey!” Eveline squeaks when Brielle starts rubbing cream all over her hair. “Why would the Queen care if I’m clean-shaven?”

“That’s the rules,” says Folla, patting her on the shoulder, almost sympathetic. “It doesn’t hurt, I promise.”

It might not hurt too much, but Eveline can’t help squirming around on the table while Brielle and Amelina work. Eventually, Folla has to hold her down by her ankles, keeping her legs spread as Brielle shaves off all her hair. It doesn’t end there, either—Amelina pokes and plucks and probes every inch of her naked body, or so it seems, and to add to the humiliation, she and Brielle stop every now and then to giggle over something or the other.

When they’re finally finished shaving, Folla helps her get to her feet and stand in front of the wide, wall-to-wall mirrors so she can see herself, freshly bathed and cleaned. Eveline has to admit that all the soaps and lotions and even the plucking did the trick—her skin is warm, soft and smooth, and smells sweet like strawberries.

_Why does the Queen want me to look beautiful?_

“It’s almost time for the dinner,” Amelina says warningly to the other two maids. “Hold up your arms.”

This time, Eveline doesn’t even bother to resist—they would only have Folla pull her arms up, and that would be worse than just doing it herself—and raises her arms. Brielle and Folla have little jars of oils and they both get to work on applying the oils over Eveline’s body, while Amelina starts combing and braiding her hair.

“The Queen had your clothes sent over while you were in the bath,” Folla says when she finishes with the oils, walking over to a closet. “We’ll help you put it on.”

Eveline eyes the clothes warily. As much as she had longed to be covered up throughout this whole ordeal, they didn’t exactly look like her usual tunics and dresses from back home.

“What is this?” she asks.

“Part of Her Majesty’s theatrics, I presume,” Amelina says. “You should count yourself lucky she isn’t having you paraded naked in front of her ladies.”

Eveline flushes at the thought, remembering how those ladies had looked and snickered at her exposed body when the Queen had had her stripped in front of them. She doesn’t resist when Folla slides the first piece—a wide strap of pink silk—around her breasts to hold them together and ties it into a bow at her back.

_This is at least better than being naked_ , she tells herself, stepping into the matching pink lacy panties that Folla offers her. _Although it’s not much better than being in my undergarments…_

The final piece of the outfit is a green skirt, made of a sparkly silk fringe that shimmers in the lights once Folla slides it onto her hips. The skirt is short enough that if she isn’t careful, she’ll expose the pink lace of her underwear every time she moves—she’s seen this sort of material on the dancers of the Queen’s parade every summer across the Isles, although they wore it as dresses instead.

_And now I am dressed in the colors of the Queen_. Eveline looks down at her pink and green ensemble, feeling herself blush a little at the thought of going in front of Queen Isolde wearing only this. While it might be better than going nude, she’s practically dressed like a present, all wrapped up in the Queen’s colors of emerald green and pink with a bow on top.

“Do you think she expects her to dance for them?” Brielle says, mostly to the other girls, but there’s a smirk on her face as she looks at Eveline, oiled up and finally dressed. “I’d quite like to see that.”

Eveline feels the flush on her cheeks deepen and opens her mouth to retort at Brielle, but Amelina stops her by moving in front of her face and pressing a cream onto her parted lips.

“Almost done,” Folla says encouragingly. It only takes Amelina a few minutes to paint her face, and when Eveline looks in the mirror, she’s surprised to find someone beautiful instead of the shivering, naked girl she had been when they’d dragged her in.

Her hair is drawn up in a high ponytail, tiny braids running through it, bringing all the attention to her face and body. Her lips and eyelids are painted peachy-pink, the rest of her face still fair, and her body glowing from all the oils and lotions. Self-consciously, she adjusts her top, but it’s tight enough that her breasts still look bigger now that they’re squeezed into the pink silk. She wishes she had something to cover up her belly, or her legs, but this will have to do.

“Well, I think the Queen will be satisfied,” Amelina says, tugging a few brown curls loose to frame Eveline’s face. “You almost look like a Blackbell girl.”

Eveline takes a deep breath before she enters the dining room, where the lights and music of the council’s dinner is in full swing. Folla had led her here and whispered _good luck_ before leaving. She almost wishes she had the maid with her, but nobody was going to go against the Warrior Queen’s orders.

_Just remember: she is not_ my _queen_ , Eveline tells herself, and then walks through the doors.

The music and chatter continue as she enters, hardly any of the ladies of the court taking a notice to one scantily-dressed girl walking into the room—until the Queen stands up from her throne at the other side of the room.

Queen Isolde looks even more beautiful here than she had in the lounge, Eveline notes distantly. Her hair is loose from its braid now, cascading in dark curls over her shoulders, and her dress is golden and shimmering. It has no sleeves, so when she lifts an arm towards Eveline, she can see the ring of spiral tattoos going from wrist to shoulders—tattoos of the flowers of every Isle she’s conquered.

There are so many flowers, all in different colors, and Eveline shivers a little at the power of the Queen. There’s no rose, but there might be one day. Being brought in front of her like this, Eveline thinks maybe _she_ is the rose on the Queen’s arm.

“Eveline of the Rose Isles,” the Queen pronounces once Eveline gets to the middle of the room. “Ladies of my court, may I introduce you to our kingdom’s most daring trespasser!” Her blue eyes glitter in amusement as she beckons Eveline closer. “Tonight, I thought our dinner entertainment might be her punishment.”

Eveline flushes at the wickedly sweet smile the Queen is sending her. _Was Brielle right? Does she actually expect me to dance for her?_

“What sort of punishment?” asks one of the ladies, a petite blonde watching Eveline with a smirking curiosity. As she looks closer, she can see several of the same ladies who were with the Queen earlier—they must be her inner circle. The tittering is quietly starting up again, although some of the members of the council are engaging in whispered conversations instead.

Queen Isolde takes a seat back on her throne. It’s a wide golden chair, cushioned in green and embedded with pink jewels around the edges. Eveline hesitantly stands on the steps just in front of the throne, trying not to look too confused or fearful as the Queen studies her.

“Our dear Eveline,” the Queen says, addressing her ladies, “was caught naked in our lake by one of my knights.” The titters turn into outright chuckles and Eveline blushes furiously. “She and her friends from the Rose Isle thought it would be fun to come swimming here. What do you think the appropriate punishment would be, Lady Klara?”

Klara doesn’t even hesitate before answering. “If she was caught naked, let her stand naked before us. We can take her down to the village and let the people have their fun with her.”

“But she was caught in the castle grounds, not in the village,” protests another lady. “She can serve us until her people come to free her. Naked, if you really want.”

“Swimming in the lake is harmless fun,” a different lady says, a scoff in her voice. “Why must we waste our time on delinquent girls? Keep her in the palace cells.”

“I think she should dance for us,” pipes up someone else.

“Take off her clothes and have her feed us our cakes and dessert tonight!”

“Tie her to the tickling tree!”

“Just give her a good spanking!”

The Queen raises a hand, and the chatter dies down instantly. Eveline knows her face is bright red from the thought of all the suggestions, but she meets the Queen’s gaze as evenly as she can. _All these women want is to see me humiliated. I can stop them from having that._

_As long as she doesn’t intend to make me dance in front of them._

“A wonderful variety of opinions, just as I had hoped for,” Queen Isolde says lightly. “What do _you_ think, my dear Eveline?” She leans closer, smiling like a cat that’s caught a canary. “Would you like to dance for us?”

Eveline flushes deeper and shakes her head quickly. Her heartbeat quickens when she notices the band has picked up the music again. _Please not dancing—I would embarrass myself instantly._

“No, that doesn’t quite sound like appropriate punishment,” Isolde agrees, tapping a finger to her chin in thought. “I think your suggestion was best for tonight, Liviana.”

Eveline almost looks back to see who she’s talking to, which one had been Liviana and what her suggestion was, but then the giggling starts again in earnest, and the Queen gestures her closer and closer until Eveline is standing just in front of the throne.

Liviana speaks up from behind her, a smug tone to her voice. “Naughty girls deserve a good spanking.”

Eveline’s eyes widen as Queen Isolde pats her lap. _She’s going to spank me in front of all of them?_

The music suddenly seems very loud, ringing in her ears. There’s no way out of this—there are guards at every door, and she could never escape the castle on her own. She’d told herself she could endure any punishment until her family came to rescue her, but she’d imagined it would be something like being locked in a room without food or water, not _this_.

“Come on, girl, get down,” calls a lady, sounding like she’s holding back laughter. “We all have places to be.”

Gingerly, Eveline lowers herself down onto the Queen’s lap, trying not to shake too much. She bends herself over, bracing her hands on the golden armrest, and nearly jumps when Isolde trails her fingers down her bare back, light and tickling.

“It’s good for morale, you see,” Isolde murmurs, in a voice so low it must be meant only for her. “For them to see their Queen exercise power. I will save your true punishment for tonight, just between us.”

The promise in her words sends a shiver down Eveline’s spine, and she’s sure the Queen feels it because she lets out a laugh. Her fingers hook into the waistband of Eveline’s skirt and drag it down to catch around her ankles, leaving her with only the pink panties to cover her rear.

“How many, do you think?” Queen Isolde asks, this time aimed at her court.

Various numbers are called out—Eveline wants to protest the sadistic glee of the lady who suggests _fifty_ , but she’s hardly in a position to argue with them—until one lady, and she thinks it might be Klara, speaks up over the babble.

“One for every dart the lady Liviana can hit in the center of the board.”

This garners agreement from the court, and Eveline can feel Queen Isolde’s body shaking in suppressed laughter. Fear strikes her: how good of a darts-player is Lady Liviana?

“Very well,” says Queen Isolde, her voice amused. “Liviana, if you would?”

The darts board is just in her eyeline, so Eveline watches in apprehension as Liviana walks over to the jar of darts—she can’t count how many are in there, but there are easily over twenty—and pulls one out.

Her stomach sinks when the first dart flies right into the center of the target.

“One,” says Liviana, smug again, and whirls to watch the spanking.

Eveline had expected the Queen to let her keep the pink underwear on, at least, but apparently she had only been saving this particular humiliation—Isolde drags the scrap of fabric down to where her skirt sits around her ankles, and rubs an anticipatory hand over Eveline’s bare cheeks. The laughter of the ladies gets louder as they watch.

“One,” Isolde concurs, and brings her hand down with a sharp smack over Eveline’s ass.

Eveline yelps, unable to help herself. Her butt cheeks tingle where Isolde’s hand had landed, but it’s not just the pain—as she squirms around on the Queen’s lap, she can hear the titters and the giggles, and Isolde only makes the embarrassment worse by rubbing her cheeks gently as she awaits Liviana’s next throw.

The next slap is just as painful. Eveline pictures the blooming pink handprint on her ass and feels the flush on her cheeks crawl down her chest from shame and anger. She can’t stop her body from wriggling around, trying to get some relief from Isolde’s hands, but she’s stuck in her position and everyone is sitting around watching her get spanked.

Somehow, being turned into entertainment for the Blackbell ladies of the court is worse than the pain of the spanking. She wishes she were at home—nobody would harm the daughter of a knight this way in the Rose Isles.

Liviana misses the center target by two inches on her next throw. Eveline exhales in relief, but instead of a slap, Isolde pinches her ass, hard, and Eveline squeals loudly.

“Calm down,” Isolde whispers in her ear, her other hand twirling Eveline’s ponytail around casually. Her voice is somehow louder than the laughter and hoots from the court ladies, and Eveline shivers at the rush of heat that fills her suddenly. “All they want is a show. Just give it to them and it will be over soon.”

_And then what? We get to your true punishment?_ Eveline wants to snap at the queen, but something stops her. Maybe it’s the traitorous blush on her face, or the delicious warmth that fills her when Isolde teasingly trails a finger down her ass, stopping just at her thighs, making her squirm and wriggle around furiously on her lap.

_What’s her game? Is she only trying to humiliate me or—_

Liviana doesn’t miss this time, and Eveline gasps when Isolde smacks just one butt cheek as hard as possible. Tears of embarrassment spring to her eyes—it was almost worse to have just one cheek tingling in pain and the other only aching from the previous slaps.

At the next dart throw, it’s her other butt cheek that gets smacked. Isolde alternates four slaps in a row—Liviana’s laughter is unbearable as she keeps hitting the targets—until Eveline lets out an embarrassing whine, the sensations of each cheek being spanked individually too much to bear in stoic silence.

This seems to be what Isolde has been waiting for, because when Liviana misses her next throw, she only massages Eveline’s ass with a soft, delicate touch, far too gentle for the famed Warrior Queen. Her fingers are warm and ticklish as they rub up and down her cheeks—she thinks the ladies are enjoying this show even more, but the relief of not being spanked is too much for her to worry about it.

Of course, Liviana hits the target with the next dart, and Isolde’s smack is so hard and sharp that Eveline cries out in pain.

It takes five more smacks before Queen Isolde calls out, “Enough.” Liviana looks disappointed as she drops the darts but Eveline nearly sobs in relief—the Queen had not held back on the spanking at all, and she can feel how red her whole backside must be.

_It’s going to ache for weeks_. She tries to get up, but Isolde’s hand stays on her back, keeping her bent over. _How long must I endure this humiliation? All these ladies have seen my bare ass, have laughed at every smack and pinch… when will my family come to rescue me?_

So distracted in her thoughts, Eveline almost doesn’t notice what Isolde’s fingers are doing on her back—until the bow of her top is pulled loose by the Queen’s nimble hand.

Eveline stifles a squeak of distress as she watches the piece of fabric flutter off her body, helpless to reach out and stop it. _And now she has me naked and at her mercy once again—is this all she wants?_

“Come,” says Isolde, in a voice that’s almost soothing. “Stand. It is time to retire to our bedrooms. Say goodbye to Eveline the Trespasser, my ladies.”

_Eveline the Trespasser—of all the indignations_ — But she doesn’t have time to protest the mocking new nickname, because Isolde is lifting her to her feet and once again, she is standing before her court of ladies, stark naked and unable to even raise her arms to cover herself up this time when they start giggling.

“Can you walk?” Isolde asks her, as the ladies continue their tittering over her nudity. Eveline manages to shake her head—her thighs are aching too much for her to even consider putting one foot in front of the other. “Olinda!”

_Not Olinda…_ Eveline watches in dismay as the knight who had caught her comes up to the throne. Isolde whispers a few words to her and Olinda nods, then reaches over and easily scoops Eveline up, throwing her over her shoulder despite her noises of protest.

“Take her to my quarters,” says Isolde, smiling as she strokes Eveline’s face with one finger. “I will be there shortly.”

She’s not sure if it’s the promise of the Queen’s true punishment, or the fact that she’s being carted naked through the cold halls like a sack of potatoes, that has her shivering the whole way to the Queen’s quarters.

All Olinda had told her was a grunted, “Don’t move the blankets,” after depositing her on the Queen’s warm, vast bed, and then she had left Eveline alone in the candlelight to nurture her humiliation.

The bed was comfortable, even though her rear still ached from the spanking, and big enough that three or four people could easily fit on it, leaving enough space for Eveline to stretch out and try to formulate a plan for when the Queen came.

_What does she want? She’s already had me punished, several times over—stripped, spanked, being treated like a toy in front of all her ladies. All I did was sneak in for a swim. What more can she want?_

Her thoughts run in circles, half-formed plans of escape flitting away as she lays there in the darkness. The only light is the candles flickering around the walls, and the air smells of tulips and blackberries, the signature scents of the Blackbell Isles. Eveline wishes dearly to be back on the Rose Isles, safe and clothed and in her own house, and when the door opens slowly, a shiver of anticipation and dread rushes through her.

“I do hope Olinda didn’t manhandle you too much,” says the Queen, a smile on her face as she enters and closes the door behind her. Eveline flushes, wondering what the sight of her must look like—oiled up and naked, lying delicately on top of her bed. She squeezes her legs closer to hide her private regions and shakes her head in response.

“What do you want from me?” she asks, her breathing uneven. Queen Isolde doesn’t answer immediately, instead reaching behind and untying the ribbons of her corset that hold her golden dress together.

Eveline’s eyes go wide as the Queen disrobes right in front of her, stepping out of her dress and walking closer to the bed wearing only her undergarments—thin, lacy green pieces that do nothing to hide the smooth tan of her skin, the power beneath her lean muscles. She is beautiful—and dangerous.

“You enter my palace grounds uninvited and make yourself at home in my lake,” Isolde murmurs, her smile shifting from amused to delighted as Eveline squirms at the reminder. “And you wonder what I want from you?”

“I thought,” Eveline gulps, “I thought the spanking would be punishment enough.”

Isolde laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, combing her fingers through her dark curls. “Oh, no, that was merely a show for my ladies. They would have whispered if I had let you go without a public punishment like that. Did you enjoy it?”

“How could I enjoy it?” Eveline shoots at her before she can help herself, but Isolde only raises an eyebrow and immediately, a flush returns to her cheeks as she remembers the feeling of the Queen’s warm hands on her bare skin, the light tickling, the teasing way she had traced a line down the center of her ass…

“Would you have preferred I strip you naked in front of all the village people?” Isolde says, a mischievous tilt to her smile. “I’ve done that before to other lawbreakers, you know. The people of the village delight in throwing fruits, vegetables, splashing water and alcohol… but it didn’t quite seem appropriate to share you with the village people, who have no idea what you did.”

“Yet you shared my humiliation with all the ladies of your court,” Eveline retorts. “You spanked me in front of them, even though they had no reason to know or care of who I was either.”

“Mm,” Isolde laughs, tossing her head back. “You _are_ a stubborn one. Perhaps you are right—I should have had you spanked in private.” Her blue eyes, dark in the candlelight of the room, glitter with promise. “For my eyes only.”

Eveline blushes, feeling heat pool low in her belly as the Queen moves closer to her on the bed. She hadn’t expected to be allowed to speak like this to the Warrior Queen, the woman who had conquered so many of the Isles on sheer might alone—but Isolde seems to enjoy her bite.

“Is that why you’re here?” she asks.

Isolde calmly positions herself right on top of Eveline’s legs, pinning her down to the bed. Eveline’s breath hitches, her whole body quivering as Isolde studies her, gaze trailing up and down her naked body, helpless to move and unable to defend herself.

“I am here to take what is mine,” Isolde says with a smile curling her lips. “You came into my home and stripped yourself naked. And so…” She traces a finger from the center of Eveline’s breasts down her belly and stops just between her thighs, and her smile widens when Eveline squeaks. “You now belong to me.”

“I—” Eveline wants to protest, but then Isolde slips one finger inside her cunt and her back arches, a moan escaping her. “You—you can’t just—”

Her breaths are coming harder, and Isolde’s smile turns wicked and pleased as she works her finger up inside Eveline. “Oh, I think I can, my dear.”

The Queen adds another finger, and then a third, without even waiting for Eveline to get used to the pressure. She lets out a sharp, high-pitched cry, writhing around as the Queen fucks her fast and hard—her thumb finds Eveline’s clit and rubs it so hard she feels dizzy from the explosion of sensations. The heat in her belly spreads all throughout her body, and Eveline tosses her head back, wanting desperately to come and have it be over—but then Isolde slows her motions and Eveline whimpers.

“Do you understand?” Isolde whispers, leaning closer so her dark hair brushes over Eveline’s collarbone and her breasts, tickling her bare skin. “This is a privilege, Eveline. Try to enjoy it.”

Eveline pants, undignified in every way, her face burning. Isolde tilts her head and smiles and then slides her other hand up Eveline’s torso and pinches a nipple between her fingers.

The pain and the pleasure spiral simultaneously through her nerves and Eveline lets out a whine. Her back arches again, unwillingly shoving her breasts up towards Isolde’s face, and she can only gasp helplessly as Isolde plucks and pinches at her pink nipple until it’s completely hard, goosebumps trailing all across her chest.

“You should be honored,” murmurs Isolde, her breath ghosting delicately over Eveline’s cheek. She pulls her fingers out of her cunt, leaving her whimpering, squirming her legs together for friction. “Most girls would get thrown in the cells for breaking into my castle. But you—you are so beautiful, it would have been a waste.”

“I don’t—” Eveline tries to say, but Isolde leans over to her bedside table and pulls a dagger out of the drawers. “My family—my brother is a knight, he will come to find me—”

Isolde chuckles, a low, light sound that sends a shiver of unwanted pleasure down Eveline’s back. “Oh, I’m sure he will, and your guilt-ridden friends, too. And how will they find you, do you think?”

Eveline bites the inside of her cheek as Isolde trails the flat of the dagger gently down her belly, the cool silver pressing deliciously cold against her heated skin. “I won’t give in to you.”

“I’m sure.” Isolde’s smile is gleaming with delight. “Wouldn’t you love for your family and friends to come marching into my castle and demand your return, only to find you naked and bent over my lap? Or perhaps dancing naked on the laps of my ladies? Maybe I should have you tied to a tree and pelted with fruits so the whole castle can see you and know your crime.”

“You—you wouldn’t,” Eveline gasps, but the pictures are filling her head, turning her cheeks crimson. _If my loved ones came and saw me like that—stripped naked and spanked in front of the Warrior Queen’s whole court—what would they say? Would they even take me home? If they did, would they whisper behind my back?_

“I might,” says Isolde, a warning in her voice. Her eyes are cold and full of mirth. “I do such things to silly girls who misbehave in my own kingdom, let alone from an outsider Isle. But…” And here she pauses and takes Eveline’s other nipple in her free hand, pinching hard. A smile crosses her face when Eveline lets out an undignified squeak. “I think other methods would work best on _you_ , my dear Eveline.”

She understands now, with startling clarity: Isolde is going to take her, and claim her, so that even when she does go home, she will always remember the feeling of the Warrior Queen on top of her, of her fingers inside her, of being laid naked beneath her and letting her have her way. Isolde wanted a rose, and she would pluck Eveline’s petals before she let her return home.

“You don’t have to worry,” Isolde says soothingly, trailing the dagger lower and lower—it never cuts skin, but the fear of drawing blood keeps Eveline exactly where she is, shivering at Isolde’s every touch. “I’m sure your dear brother will come to liberate you soon enough. Until then, all you have to do is enjoy it.”

She flips the dagger around to slide the hilt of it between Eveline’s thighs, nudging them apart again. Eveline whimpers but Isolde spreads her legs wider and wider, despite her attempts at stopping, until her cunt is completely exposed to the Queen’s sharp, hungry gaze.

“You do enjoy it, don’t you?” Isolde breathes, tracing her finger over Eveline’s soaking wet folds as though committing them to memory. “Look at you. Have you ever had a woman touch you like this before?”

“N-no,” Eveline stammers. Her hips buck up of their own accord, her whole body angling for more even as her brain screams at her to make the Queen stop, to pull away, to do something so Isolde cannot lay any more of her mark on her body than she already has.

Isolde leans closer, a curious gleam to her eyes. “Have you ever touched yourself like this?”

Eveline gasps as Isolde presses the cold hilt of the dagger to her clit. “No,” she breathes, but it’s a lie, and she knows Isolde knows it because her smile turns into a smirk.

“You are a liar as well as a trespasser,” Isolde muses, amused. “Perhaps I should have spanked you harder.”

A moan escapes her as Isolde slides the dagger’s hilt between her folds and then, with a burst of electricity running through her nerves, she pushes the dagger inside Eveline’s cunt, achingly slowly.

Eveline keens, so loud she’s sure anyone outside the Queen’s quarters must hear her, throwing her head back and clenching her fists in the blankets as Isolde fucks her with the dagger. It hurts so much it spirals back around to pleasure as she writhes beneath her and the friction builds higher and higher, like her whole body is on fire.

“Do you know,” Isolde murmurs, her lips very close to Eveline’s face, moving the dagger up and down inside her lazily, “this is the dagger I used to conquer the Lilyvalley Isles, far west of here? Their queen refused to bow to me—so this is how I made her.”

She twists the dagger once, and Eveline moans.

“You should be honored,” says Isolde lightly. “That I would use this dagger on a delinquent girl like you.”

One more twist, and she comes undone, a scream catching in the back of her throat as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm her. She can barely feel anything, dizzy with the pain—she knows her body is writhing, that her nipples are achingly hard, that her wetness is all over the blankets under her thighs, but when a noise finally escapes her, it’s only a pitiful whimper as the Queen slowly pulls the dagger out of her.

Eveline slumps back down on the bed, all the fight drained out of her from the force of what just happened. A rational part of her mind is staring in horror—she had let herself be taken, let the Queen claim her in such an undignified way—but all she can do is try to regain her breathing.

“Good girl,” says Isolde, her voice sweet and low. She strokes her free hand gently down Eveline’s torso, fingers dancing over her belly, soft and ticklish until Eveline lets out a helpless giggle and squirms around. “Have you ever felt like that before?”

Her hand dips down between her wet thighs and Eveline gasps. “No—I—”

Isolde rubs her thumb against Eveline’s clit, inciting another moan. “Did you like that better, or the spanking?” she teases.

Eveline can feel her backside aching just at the reminder of the spanking. “I—this,” she admits in a small voice.

“Would you like me to do it again?” Isolde asks, a smirk glittering in her eyes. Her finger strokes hot against Eveline’s folds. “Just say the word.”

Eveline swallows. Her cunt aches from the dagger, and there are goosebumps all over her thighs, a bright red flush crawling down her chest. She wants to be home, far away from this Warrior Queen and the heat of her touch. “What if I say no?” she manages to breathe.

Isolde arches one dark brow and smiles indulgently. “Then tomorrow, I take you out to the village and spank you in front of my people.” She slips her other hand behind Eveline’s hips and squeezes her ass in a warning reminder as Eveline gulps. “Would you prefer that? Stripped naked for all the men, women, and children of my kingdom to see? Perhaps I’ll have them all take turns—maybe I’ll even invite your dear friends over here so they can take a turn as well.”

Eveline shivers, blushing deeper and feeling her stomach churn. _My friends—would they actually enjoy it? They had no problems leaving me naked at the mercy of the Queen’s knights today. Maybe they’d like to see me stripped and spanked by the Warrior Queen._

Was it better, she wonders, to be a rose plucked naked in the village square for all to witness, or to be a rose plucked in secrecy, in the middle of the night, with only the Warrior Queen to know the intimate secrets of her body? Where no one else could find out how wet she was, how her breasts ached and her cunt throbbed in craving for the Queen’s touch?

She had already gone through enough humiliation in front of the leering ladies of the court, in front of that brutish lady knight Olinda, and the smirking, judgmental maids. _Is this not better? The Warrior Queen wants me, not to see me humiliated, but to see me be claimed by her. If I let her claim me in the night, perhaps she will be kinder in the daytime. Her touches are so soft when she does not aim to hurt…_

“Tell me, Eveline,” says Isolde, a quiet smile in her voice. Her finger hovers tantalizingly just over her cunt. “Would you prefer my touch, or theirs?”

_Neither_.

_But it does not matter what I want. Only what she wants._

Eveline whispers, traitorous to her own mind, “Yours.”

Isolde pushes one finger inside her, hard. “What was that?”

“Yours,” Eveline gasps. Another finger, crooked just right, and she mewls desperately.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Eveline?” Isolde croons. She adds a third finger and Eveline feels like she might burst open, or perhaps go floating into the air from the pressure. “Say it.”

“Yes,” Eveline moans, the word trailing off into a whine. “Your Majesty—” This seems to please Isolde, because she twists her fingers hard enough that Eveline screams. “ _Please_.”

And this time, when she comes, she understands why the queen of the Rose Isles had been too fearful to face Isolde in person. She understands why all the other Isles had bowed to her power, to her strength, to her ferocity and cruelty.

The Warrior Queen takes what she wants, and when she wants someone to bow to her, they always will.


End file.
